even forgotten memories make us

All my plans fall into her wake, her rhythm. It takes less than a moment for us to find us. We hadn’t been together in three months, but we are always together.
All these years. I did not blow this. I’m so glad I don’t wonder.

She’s so proud, I notice it instantly. A world she’s figured out on her own. She’s my navigator, this responsibility a source of her pride.

Everything is planned ahead of time yet completely easy and spontaneous. Getting lost, and in trouble, is always part of our plans.

Public transit. Everywhere. Trains. Buses. The Fairy. She’s Joyful. Fearless. Effortless movement around people and culture and diversity. This is what I always wanted for her, what I consciously parented towards. Way more than a grade or score or ranking.

“Be free”; our farewell mantra each morning as she left for school.

The slow conversations are what I cherish most.What should I do?I have no idea. Graduate school. Job. Home.

Where is home now? Memories.Mom.Stories of a thousand moments. Why?Did you know?I have to show you this. And this. And this.

What was our first trip? She thinks Tennessee. I think New Orleans, that time I left her on Bourbon Street and told her to find her way back to our hotel, secretly following behind, peeking around every corner making sure she made her way. Of course.

I always knew this was my job. Ready. Free. Interested. Kind.

That was at least 30 adventures ago; we started wandering the world alone, together, when she was 8.